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There’s a couple who panhandle at an intersection near my job. They stand on seperate traffic islands, but if you see her– you know that he’s somewhere near. This was the "good looking couple" some years ago, you can tell. He’s tall, she has presence.  This woman’s face is baked dry, tanned, toothless, her clothes– his as well– are always neat and clean. They both favor light blue. Her hair is peroxoded about halfway down and salt-and-pepper to the scalp, and pulled up in a high ponytail that sprays across her shoulders. 

This afternoon, they were getting onto the train in the opposite direction from me. I was struck by two things; one was the way they used their space, the two, of them very contained, and in a little bubble of stillness. The other was the way she walked and carried herself– beautifully poised, and so very, essentially, femminine.

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